


Henry Learns to Dance

by OwlinAutumn



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: A ton of elipses ..., Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Crush, Dancing, First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Greg is a gentleman, Henry's red ears, Hot Sex, Is is just me or is it a bit warm in here ... yow, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Shower Sex, accidental date, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlinAutumn/pseuds/OwlinAutumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being stranded at a Vegas dance club, a somewhat tipsy Henry Andrews is rather out of his element. But how can he refuse help when it comes in the guise of Greg Sanders?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Fateful Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> The Explicit rating is earned by the second chapter, just so you don't get disappointed!

The beat shaking the entire club hadn’t seemed to change in the last ten minutes, to Henry. Perhaps it was because he was tired and feeling a little maudlin, and all the low lighting combined with deafening levels of music was starting to become annoying. He leaned against the bar, head over his drink as he nursed it, stirring idly with the little red straw. It glowed blue. All the glasses on the bar did, because it was lit from underneath. His face, therefore, was tinted blue at the moment, and he felt it, too.

Henry Andrews didn’t really get out that much. His near lack of friends outside the workplace proved that, along with his lack of any real social life outside of the workplace, much less a significant other. So when he made friends with the girl at the coffee shop down the road where he stopped in now and again to get a drink, he didn’t say no when she asked if he wanted to go with a group of her friends to a club the next evening. He had the shift off, so he felt more than interested in going. After all, he had lived in Vegas several years and had never really gone clubbing, and it was supposed to be a young person must-do when in the City of Sin.

So Henry dolled himself up. He put on a fitted grey dress shirt that had a rather shiny sheen and a slight pattern sprayed into it, along with some flattering black pants, and even pulled out his favorite shoes. Hot wasn’t really something Henry thought he could shoot for, but cute and good looking was definitely in range. Cash was secured and he met the group at a nearby diner, after which they headed on to ‘Light Night’ at Vision. And now he was stuck there, alone, stirring his fourth (or was it his fifth?) Seven and Seven, the thump of the song making his head ache a little and the group of people he had come with? Nowhere to be found. Of course, they weren’t really his ‘friends’, but he’d always been of the opinion that, unless they tell you to, you don’t leave someone behind. Apparently, he was wrong. He was stranded.

Of course, in reality, it was nothing so drastic as that. Henry just had to call a taxi to take him home, as costly as that would be, from the strip to his apartment. But at the moment, he was trying to drown his social problems in the bottom of a glass.

“Henry!” He heard faintly over the thud of the pumping house around him. “Henry Andrews, is that you?”

Blinking, slightly blearily because he was a little drunk, he turned. A hand caught his shoulder and he looked up into the smiling, liquid brown eyes of Greg Sanders.

_Oh Jesus._

Greg was grinning at him, all sheer surprise and delight. Did he know how good he looked in that tight blue shirt with the random text design all over it and the even tighter shiny blue and black pants? He was dressed to kill, no surprise really for Greg, especially when he was probably in a mode to strut his stuff, but still … Henry was mortified to run into him here, of all places. Especially seeing as he was drinking his non-social sorrows away at some random club. He could already feel his ears reddening.

“Er, hey Greg! What are you doing here?” He yelled, Greg leaning into him in an attempt to hear. Dear god, he smelled good. Henry tried to shake all these thoughts from his mind. A workplace crush should be left in the workplace. Wait, that didn't sound quite right ...

“Dancing, of course!” Greg replied, grinning into Henry’s red ears. “I never figured you for a dancing kind of guy, Henry!”

“I’m not, really! I was hanging out with a group of … acquaintances. They came here, they’ve disappeared and here I am!” Greg’s proximity was making Henry nervous, even if they were just talking in the only way possible when music is being blasted obscenely loud.

“Aw! That sucks! Well, you’re here. You should be dancing! C’mon, Henry! Come dance with us!” Without even allowing for an argument, Greg had taken Henry’s hands, pulling him towards his small group of friends, two girls and a guy who were all chattering into each others’ ears and grinning in the way of close chums out on the town. His drink abandoned (it was gone anyways), and being pulled along by the most attractive man in Clark County, at least in Henry’s opinion, he had little choice.

He waved awkwardly to Greg’s friends, blushing as Greg yelled to them, “This is Henry! We work together and his friends dumped him! I told him he should dance with us!”

“Hi, Henry!” Yelled the shorter brunette girl, all decked out in red and gold top and skirt, showing plenty of skin. The tall blond wearing a tight blue dress waved, while the dark haired, darkly dressed young man just nodded, looking like he didn’t care about anything.

“That’s Heidi, Natalie and Kile.” Greg said, pointing to each in turn while Henry smiled, totally uncomfortable. He almost went weak at the knees when Greg’s lips were suddenly at his ear, half-shouting, “Don’t mind Kile. He just caught his boyfriend with someone in the back room, and now he’s all pouty.”

“Oh!” Was all Henry could come up with in response, but it didn’t seem to matter, because the girls started jumping up and down as the song slowly morphed into another. It was one of those mixes of old club hits that everyone loved to dance to and shout out the words, and Henry found himself being dragged again, this time into the rolling mass of bodies out on the floor.

He probably would have been lost, save for the tight grip that Greg was keeping on his wrist. That made him feel thankful – the ‘friends’ he’d come with earlier didn’t even bother to watch for him, yet this person from work seemed to be absolutely hell bent on keeping him around. It was rather odd but comforting, and that and possibly the alcohol were helping to relax.

They managed to push into a slightly clear area, and with the crowd around them moving with the song, it was easy for the group to get into it. Kile seemed to move only his head and his feet, perhaps still moping, or just a very bad dancer. The girls got into it immediately, hands in the air and hips waving as they swayed to the rhythm and shouted out the words that they knew. Greg was an absolute dynamo of dancing. He caught the beat with his shoulders and hips and legs and moved back and forth almost effortlessly, grooving around their little space.

Save for Kile, all the dancing expertise was making Henry feel awkward again. He moved well to the music, but not at all with feeling. Too busy being nervous about messing up in front of new people, combined with nervousness about messing up in front of Greg and being shy in the mass throb of bodies, he wasn’t paying much attention to what he was doing. Instead, he watched Greg and the girls strut their stuff. They fended off dance advances, or welcomed them on a case-by-case basis, but in the end always returned to the little group.

The song wound down into just thumping rhythm, sure signs of a new song, and Greg pressed close to Henry, still moving but leaning in to talk. “Having fun now?”

“Er, yeah! Thanks, Greg.”

“You sure? You don’t look like it!”

“Yeah, I’m sure!”

Greg gave him a look that obviously meant he was certain Henry was lying. As the next dance began, a slower, throbbing industrial beat with little overtone and only some high, gritty vocals, Greg slipped his arm around Henry’s neck. It seemed brotherly at first, until he had Greg’s lips at his ear again. “You should be having fun. Let’s dance, Henry!”

Henry’s eyes drifted heavy and half-closed as Greg began to dance against him, moving in rhythm to the music, his arm still draped lazily around Henry’s shoulders. Henry couldn’t help but move with him, shuddering slightly as Greg pressed into him a little more. He could feel Greg’s warm breath on his sweat-brushed neck, and it made him shiver. The swaying of his dance partner brought him into the beat, and Greg’s sure form as a dancer made the slow, sultry movements fluid and easy.

Henry hadn’t ever, ever danced with someone like this before, and if anything could be, it was definitely dirty. The fact that he was tipsy kept him from flipping out and flailing. Instead, his hand trailed up the tight cloth stretched across Greg’s back, letting it rest at the small of his back as they moved. Greg pulled his head back a bit, his own eyes heavily-lidded as he grinned, a hand on Henry’s hip pulling him even closer. Henry was quite sure he hadn’t taken a breath in a while. Greg probably danced with everyone like this, he told himself silently. _But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it._

It seemed to go on for an eternity, the touch and sweat and the sway of hips together. Henry knew his ears _had_ to be as red as the LEDs some of the club kids were wearing around their necks and fingers. Still, when the beat began to change again, Greg slowly removed his arm and hand, taking a step away, his grin broad. Henry gave a little groan of dismay, inaudible in the dense din of the house pulse. He couldn’t help smiling back as Greg leaned in, shouting, “Thanks, Henry! You’re a pretty good dancer!”

Before he could protest that he definitely was not, Greg was dancing away again, catching the now much faster, pop beat. Soon he was swinging the girls around, trying to get Kile to help him, all laughing and carefree. As he watched the CSI move, the boost of confidence, along with the knowledge that Greg had actually wanted to dance close to him made Henry lose his inhibitions a little more. A few songs went past. When Heidi and Natalie pulled him over and danced with him together, he smiled and went along with it. He enjoyed spinning them out and back in and making Heidi giggle and Natalie blush. He was actually starting to think that maybe he should go out and drink and dance more often.

Then along came another slow, pulsing song, the bodies on the floor pressing a little closer together. The girls avoided advances from nearby by closing in on each other in a rather obvious way. Henry tried to block everything out but the rhythm, feeling people moving in a little tighter, dancing all a little closer. But this time he was alone, as Greg was lost in his own beat, off to one side of their little circle. Still, Henry couldn’t help but watch him. Neither, it seemed, could Kile, who hadn’t really taken his eyes off Greg since they’d first moved onto the floor. As the beat thumped and a drop took the crowd down with it, Kile moved in behind Greg, slipping his arms around his waist and shoving himself suggestively into the other man.

Greg seemed to nearly jump out of his skin – he hadn’t been aware of anything besides the movement of his own body, and suddenly there was an intrusion into his space, interrupting his rhythm. Henry watched as he tried to break away from the darker youth, but Kile kept pressing himself blatantly forward, trying to wrap his arms around Greg and keep him there. Finally, Greg stopped dancing and turned, pushing Kile away gently but firmly, loudly saying something indistinguishable even from Henry’s rather close vicinity. Kile tried to pull close again, shouting something back, but Greg kept his arm between them, stepping back, shouting a few more choice, inaudible lines over the music. Kile’s face turned angry and he stopped moving, stepping back, the two now in a music-drowned argument, ignored by the surrounding deafened crowd. No one but Henry seemed to notice as Greg and Kile yelled back and forth at each other.

A few more heated replies and suddenly Kile turned and stormed away, looking rather angry. Henry realized he wasn’t actually the only witness to the fight – both Natalie and Heidi had stopped dancing and were watching, Heidi’s mouth pursed looking worried, while Natalie frowned darkly, her arms crossed. Greg shook his head and then looked to the two women, moving over to them and saying something into Natalie’s ear. She nodded and turned to pull Heidi off, walking after Kile into the crowd. Heidi gave Henry a wave in goodbye before being tugged into the still-moving mass of people around them.

Henry almost wanted to slip away into the crowd too, suddenly feeling out of place after a row between friends. However, he didn’t have time to act on the urge before Greg turned to him, giving him a slightly rueful smile as he stepped closer and leaned in to speak … or as close to it as he could.

“Look … I hate to do this, but I think I’m going to call it a night. I know your friends took off, and I don’t want to cut your evening short, but I can give you a ride home, if you need one.”

“That’d be great! If you don’t mind?” Henry shouted back, knowing Greg was really the only reason he was still there anyways. Might as well go home and chalk this night up.

“Cool! C’mon, then. Let’s get outta here!”

Greg grabbed his wrist again, pulling him through the dancing mass towards the bar and the exit. It was almost a relief when they pushed past the last few people into the clearer area of the fluorescent bar. Releasing him but waving him on, Greg was looking warily about as they went, as if afraid of running into someone on the way. Henry couldn’t help wondering what, besides rejection, had gone on between Kile and his new friend.

Soon they were walking out of the club into the casino beyond and made their way towards the parking structure, a comfortable silence lingering between them. Alcohol was still buzzing in Henry’s veins, which made him even more glad that Greg was driving – if he had his car, Henry would’ve been in no shape to get himself home at this point, even if he had been dancing it off. He was watching Greg, giving him sideways glances as they walked. Greg walked purposefully, looking rather as if he were in his own world of thought, half staring at his shoes, half at the ceiling.

“What’s up?” Greg said suddenly, glancing at Henry with a half-smile on his lips.

“What?” Henry replied, so startled he almost stopped walking.

The smile widened, a chuckle escaping his lips, “You’re staring at me. I’m just wondering what you’re thinking about.”

If it weren’t for the grin on his face, Henry would’ve thought Greg was berating him. It was impossible not to smile back, his ears heating up a bit at being caught. “Um, nothing. I … I was just admiring your shirt.”

“Oh! Thanks! There’s this little shop over in the Gallery at Caesar’s. Miso Cool. I buy a lot of my clothes there,” Greg said, stretching the shirt out a little in front of him to admire it momentarily.

“Cool.”

They passed into the parking garage, Greg leading them onto the escalator that would take them to the correct level. Henry looked slightly guilty, knowing that wasn’t actually it. After a few moments, he shook his head, stating, “Actually, I was wondering what happened back there.”

“What, with Kile?” Greg raised an eyebrow as he brought his keys from his pocket, unlocking the Denali from afar. He motioned to the vehicle, a silent invitation for Henry to get in.

“Er, yeah. I … you don’t have to tell me. I just feel bad … for watching.” The door was heavy, but Henry managed to get himself in the car, even as his slightly inebriated self struggled a little with handles and seat belts.

Greg snorted, shaking his head as he put the keys in the ignition and turning the SUV on. “Not like you could help it. Kile loves public scenes.”

“Still,” Henry shifted in his seat, uncomfortably aware that this was none of his business. Greg was pulling out, glancing to look behind him when he caught the look on Henry’s face.

“Henry,” He sighed, giving the younger man a slight smile. “It’s okay. Really.”

Henry looked out the window, feeling even guiltier that not only had he witnessed a private moment, but now he was making the kind gesture of a friend from work uncomfortable by bringing it up. Lights began to slide past as the Denali crept out of the parking structure into the shining sea of a Vegas night beyond.

After a few minutes of silence, Greg broke Henry’s slightly miserable reverie. “Kile and Jacob, that's his boyfriend ... They fought earlier because Jake cheated on him. Kile was pissed about it, but not enough to go home. Apparently he got it into his head that he would sleep with me instead and make Jacob just as jealous. Not so much, right?”

Henry winced, sorry suddenly for Greg. He obviously wasn’t the only one with friends who were inconsiderate or rude. “Wow. That … that’s quite an assumption.”

“I know. I’ve told him before, I’m not attracted to him. I guess, when he saw us dancing, he thought he could, too. Without asking. Not cool.”

Henry nodded, trying not to pay attention to the little voice in his head that was loudly wondering if that meant Greg was attracted to him. “So when you told him no, he got angry.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, really he just wanted to make some kind of scene, whether it was dancing up on me and making out in public or having a knockdown, drag out fight in the middle of the floor. I’m just not up to that kind of thing. You know, too much teenage drama. I’m at least twelve years too old for that sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” Henry agreed faintly, nodding. Already they were passing Industrial, and he suddenly realized that he hadn’t even told Greg where he lived. “Um …”

“Hm?”

“D … Do you need me to tell you where to go?” Although they were leaving half of Vegas behind them, Greg was headed in the right direction at the moment. Still, it was odd that he hadn’t asked in the first place.

“Oh, hell. I totally forgot,” Greg blinked, looking apologetic. It wasn’t surprising – after all, they’d been talking and it was easy to go on autopilot. Then Greg glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, “Still feeling a little drunk?”

“What?” Henry said, blushing. How the hell did Greg know how much he had to drink? His ears were simply burning, and Henry turned his eyes to the road, trying not to look shocked.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I could smell it on your breath earlier, you fumble a bit, and you’re letting me drive, so I took a guess.”

Damn. Observant. He was a CSI, after all. “Yeah, I guess I’m a little tipsy.”

There was a moment’s silence, perhaps slightly awkward.

“I … I don’t suppose you want to crash at my place? It’s close by,” Greg drawled easily, looking out at the road himself. “We could watch a movie, eat popcorn, something? Hang out? I’m just … not ready to go to sleep yet. Didn’t mean to leave the club that early.”

Even to the tox tech’s slightly blurred mind, it didn’t exactly make sense, but it wasn’t a bad idea. He liked Greg. A lot. Who wouldn’t? He was intelligent, funny, incredibly handsome, nice, and he remembered Henry’s name before anyone else did when he started nightshift at the lab. He held Greg as a role model, at least. Besides, didn’t the whole excursion for him begin when he wanted to try and make friends? And now here was Greg, offering to hang out. He tried to ignore a fluttering in his chest, certain it wouldn't be anything more than what was being offered. He didn't want to get his hopes up where there was little evidence. “Sure. Why not? I haven’t got anywhere to be tomorrow. It's my day off.”

“Okay,” Greg replied, glancing at him with a soft grin that made the hair on Henry’s neck stand up. He really needed to rein this crush in if he didn’t want to act like a fool in front of Greg, who was now not only his savior but possibly a good friend in the making.

The rest of the trip to Greg’s was, indeed, short. He lived in a small house a short distance from the lab, and Henry did have to admit silently that they would’ve had to drive longer to get to his place. They pulled up the driveway and got out of the car, Henry following Greg up the front step and pausing behind him as the door was opened.

“C’mon in,” He said, letting the door swing open for Henry. The place was nice. A little cluttered, but not messy. There were framed posters on the walls, a large vinyl collection on shelves against one wall of the small living room, another wall dominated by a large entertainment system. Henry walked in, glancing around as Greg slipped off his shoes – Henry took that as a cue to do the same. Then he took a few steps further in, taking a good look at the flat panel television that was mounted on the wall, admiring it.

“That … is a beautiful piece of equipment. Is it new?”

“Pretty new,” Greg muttered behind him. He hadn’t moved from the entryway. Henry glanced back at him to see the other man leaning against the wall, examining him. One of Henry’s eyebrows arched a silent question. “Bought it about three months ago. I was saving up for a while.”

That wasn’t the question, Henry thought, his brain not nearly as fuzzy as it had been an hour before on the dance floor. He was still buzzing, but he could recognize evasion when he heard it. After a pause without Greg filling up the gap, Henry turned back again, examining the other parts of the center. “Xbox 2, a PS2, DVD, surround sound, TiVo… and a ton of movies. Wow. I’m jealous.”

“You can always come over and watch my tv,” Greg was behind him, his voice making Henry straighten nervously, turning around this time. Greg had only taken a few steps out of the doorway and, as Henry turned, was practically face to face with him.

“Did you like dancing, Henry?”

“Well, I … I mean, yeah. Thanks, by the way. I was … not doing too well when you showed up. “

“I noticed.”

“It was a lot of fun. Your friends seem pretty awesome.”

“Heidi’s a blast and Natalie’s great. Kile’s an annoying prick that Natalie took under her wing. He acts like he's twelve, uses her to get access to good people in order to make _drama_ as often as possible. I dislike him, but she’s his friend, and I’m not going to tell her no.”

“I don’t really even have friends like that. Must be nice.”

“No friends, Henry?” Greg sounded absolutely surprised. Henry could’ve sworn Greg had moved imperceptively, feeling he was, for some strange reason, getting closer and closer. “But you're so ... That’s sad.”

“Well, most of my good friends I left behind when I left home. And I haven’t really had or made time since I’ve been here to make friends on my own.”

“Well,” Greg said softly, this time taking a rather obvious step forward, making Henry take an unexpected step backwards. “I’ll be your friend, Henry.”

“T … thanks, Greg. I already think of you as my friend, really, if that's okay,” Henry’s voice was quiet, his ears turning bright red as he flushed.

“Yeah, definitely. I hope you didn’t mind it when I danced with you earlier,” Greg’s smiled widened slightly at the memory. He inched closer; Henry could hear the white noise of blood rushing in his ears and tried to tell himself to calm down.

“No! No, not at all. It was fun. I … I was having fun. I certainly wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t shown up. I'd been thinking about leaving, really, until you came over.” Henry was having trouble controlling his fidgeting response, his palms pressing into his thighs as he tried to harness the impulse to run away.

“You liked it, then?”

“Well … Yeah … Yeah. Yes.” Henry had to work at a straight answer. Stared down by those impossibly deep brown eyes, he faintly wondered if what he thought was happening here was actually what was happening. If that even made sense …

“So if I asked you to dance with me again, you’d say yes?” Greg was so close now Henry could feel his breath on his cheek, and that fluttering somewhere between his stomach and his heart picking up rapidly.

“Yes.”

“Dance with me?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Long-fingered hands slid up the slick front of his dress shirt, closing on fabric and buttons and drawing him in. The sensation made him shiver, and he could feel his eyes sliding into that sultry half-lidded setting that was induced by sensuality. Even though there was no music besides the pulsing of blood in his ears, Henry could feel himself starting to move, Greg swaying a little with him, sensation kicking in sense memory of the thrumming bass from the club. Hands hooked around his neck, and Henry found himself placing his own on Greg’s hips, drawing him close. Greg hardly had to move to brush his pouted red lips against Henry’s, thin and blushed. On the second pass, Henry took the initiative, finally realizing that the point of no return was breached, and if someone said stop, it certainly wouldn’t be him. And then they were kissing.

Greg tasted slightly of sweat and mint and something spicy, and Henry opened his mouth, the silent invitation welcome as the kiss deepened into a slow tangle of tongues, lips and a little bit of teeth. Greg's fingers slipped up into Henry’s curls, taking a firm hold on his new friend as they kissed. Time slipped away, marked only by their pulses and the slowly ebbing tolerance for fresh air.

Finally they released, Henry taking a deep breath as Greg panted softly, a huge grin on his face. The tech realized that they had stopped moving, he had been so focused. Jesus, was this really happening? This night had gone from awful to spectacular in no short order. Greg touching his ear brought him out of his new reverie with a shiver.

“I love your ears,” Greg chuckled low, running a finger along them.

“Stop that … they’re sensitive,” Henry almost choked on the words as Greg did it again, examining his reaction with a very scientific look on his face.

“Ooh. You should see the way you look when I do this,” Greg said as he demonstrated by doing it again. “You look positively turned-on.”

“Not helping,” Henry mumbled, almost panting. If Greg wasn’t careful, he’d end up with a Henry-shaped puddle on his nice carpet, and no one could be pleased about that.

“Well, maybe I _want_ to turn you on,” Greg murmured low into his ear, again running his finger along it. This time Henry shuddered hard, his hands tensing on Greg’s hips. There was teasing, but this was on the edge of cruel, and Henry's teeth were starting to maul his bottom lip.

Greg leaned in and gave him a soft kiss that gently separated his lip from his teeth and almost took his breath away more than any of the heavy kissing they’d done seconds before. It went on, deepening slowly, Greg's tongue teasing, tasting, and encouraging Henry's to do the same in return. But then he pulled away, and now every possibility he hadn't allowed himself to entertain before was finally flooding through Henry's brain, and it was all he could do to bite the groan back from where Greg could actually hear him.

Greg slipped his hand into Henry’s, startling him from his reverie, and even as Henry began to ask himself what was happening, he already knew. Greg was leading him down the hall to the bedroom. Henry’s heart began racing faster. Oh, this evening was going _infinitely_ better than he had ever imagined it could.

Pulling him through the door and turning around to face him, Greg had one of those bright, mischievous smiles on his face. His fingers darted for the buttons of Henry’s shirt, and Henry did nothing to fend them off, but let his thumbs slide in encouraging strokes up and down Greg’s sides, biting his bottom lip as he watched the other undress him with relish. Greg didn’t stop with his shirt, efficiently undoing the fastenings of Henry’s pants in the meantime.

“Can’t be wasting time,” Greg muttered, letting his cool fingers trace up the bare, heated skin of Henry’s chest. It made Henry gasp, which just made Greg grin even wider. Henry couldn’t help but chuckle at Greg – he looked like a kid in a candy store who’d been told he could have anything he wanted. Henry had never really thought of himself as anything Greg Sanders would ever want. Looking up at him, Greg shook his head, his eyes narrowing with amusement.

“What’re you laughing at?” He leaned in, giving Henry a gentle peck and coaxing a soft noise from Henry's throat by running his fingers across nipples and muscle.

“You. You just … I don’t know. I never expected my night to end like this. I especially didn’t see you … t-taking interest in me,” Henry stumbled over the words, his ears reddening more as he got it all out, all the things that were making him nervous. Maybe, if they were out in the air, he could get past that tingling in his stomach that made him want to fidget madly. Saying it certainly made his hands steadier as he slid his fingers up under Greg’s shirt, teasing along skin at his waistband. He grinned, reveling as Greg shivered for him for the first time.

“Henry,” Greg breathed, leaning in to kiss his neck from his collarbone all the way up to that little space under his ear. “You are absolutely adorable. How could I _not_ like you? Not _want_ you? I just never thought you’d be interested … that you might not want me this way.” Lifting his lips, he whispered into Henry’s ear, “I am _so_ glad you came to the club tonight. Remind me to thank your friends for leaving you for me to find.”

Greg thought he wouldn’t be interested in _him_? A whimper leaked out of Henry’s throat, and he started to make an effort to peel up that damned tight shirt when something in Greg’s pocket started ringing and vibrating. He wanted to ignore it, but there was a muttered curse at his ear as Pink mutedly sang about not being a Stupid Girl from the other man’s pocket.

Greg untangled one arm from Henry in order to answer his cell, almost growling “Sanders.” into the phone as Henry leaned his forehead against Greg's chest. Slowly, he smoothed down Greg’s shirt, letting his fingers ghost over his back as the slow stiffening in Greg’s spine already attested to the unwelcome nature of the call.

“Cath, what is it? Only, this isn’t a good time … “ Greg sighed, his other hand free as Henry took a slight step back, knowing now exactly who was on the phone. If it was work, if it was business … Oh, this was not good.

“What? But … Can’t you call … No. No, I know. Yes. Yes, I understand. Yeah, I’ll … No, it’s okay. I’ll be there. All right. See you soon,” Greg’s voice was gravid and resigned, and he finally snapped the phone shut with a sigh, his eyes pinched shut. Silence, save for their slowing breathing, reigned for a few minutes.

“What is it?” Henry’s voice seemed loud breaking the silence, even though he was speaking softly. Already his tone was gentle and resigned. He had pressed his palms to his thighs to keep them somewhere, suddenly very unsure of exactly where he stood or what he was supposed to do.

Greg blinked, looking up almost as if he had forgotten everything from before the phone call. Then a sorrowful, almost tired look washed across his face and he hung his head. Reaching out, his hand slipped behind Henry’s neck, pulling him closer, wanting contact. Needing, if only momentarily, a slight reminder of the moments before the call interrupted them. His opposite hand rested on Henry’s bared chest, and Henry could feel his skin tingle distractingly at the touch.

“Henry, I am really … really sorry. Apparently, Mia’s out sick, the day-shift girl’s on vacation in Europe, and they have a court trial with new, surprise evidence. They’ve been given 14 hours … Only I can get them the results they need in time for them to be prepared, and I need to go _now_.” His brown eyes lifted to meet Henry’s, which were studying him quietly, accepting in silence.

“That … that’s fine. I mean, I know how it goes. If you want, I can call a cab, or … “

“Stay?”

“W … what?” That startled Henry, who’d been expecting rushed rejection, quiet acceptance … anything but that.

“Stay until I get back. Get some sleep – use my bed, I don’t want to find you on the couch. At best, it’ll be a few hours. At worst, it’ll be this afternoon. You’ve got the day off, right? With any luck, I’ll get home, get a little sleep, then we can have lunch or dinner, talk … “ He tugged Henry in gently, brushing their lips together, his voice husky and eyes still darkened from before. “Continue.”

How could anyone say no to Greg Sanders? It was absolutely humanly impossible. Especially when he looked like he was about to eat you alive, in a very good way. Henry nodded dumbly, trying to keep his knees from _actually_ turning to jelly. He controlled all the questions in his mind, keeping it to a wordless agreement, sealed only by the slightly impulsive kiss that he stole which was returned gently.

Moments later, Greg detached himself reluctantly, giving Henry’s cheek a final brush of lip, his hair a final ruffle before going to his closet and the bathroom to change and freshen up. In the meantime, Henry pulled his slacks off and shed his shirt, stripping back the sheets and slipping into the bed, making himself comfortable, if he could be under such odd circumstances. It didn’t take long before Greg was ready to leave, standing at the door and taking one last look at Henry Andrews, tucked into his bed without him.

“I’ll be back soon. Promise.”


	2. The Dance Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry awakens to a sleeping Greg. How does this work? Can he use the bathroom? What's the protocol here? Things are awkward, then blazingly hot, then _wonderful_ ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I think my brain melted, writing this. I hope you enjoy.

Vague afternoon light filtered through the thick blinds as Henry’s eyes fluttered open. It took him a few moments to really gather his bearings. He was in his boxers, curled up in Greg Sanders’ bed. Then he shifted slightly, and realized the unusual weight around him was Greg’s arm, the warmth at his neck and down his back was Greg himself. The realization that he was sleeping in bed, cuddled up with the handsome CSI made him grin rather goofily. It was nice. More than nice, actually.

Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake Greg, Henry sat up. He certainly didn’t remember waking up when Greg came home, so he had no idea how long they had been sleeping like this. A while, if the other man’s sleep mussed hair had anything to say about it. Although, Henry had to admit, with Greg’s hair it could technically be hard to tell. The thought made him smile again, looking down at Greg as he adjusted to the movement of Henry. There was a slight frown on the sleeping man’s face as he tried to drag Henry closer, and it made him chuckle softly. He brushed fingertips fondly across his friend’s jaw, letting them trail ever so gently up into Greg’s hair, the contact changing the frown to a smile, a soft, happy note emerging from the back of the dozing man’s throat.

As much fun as watching and fussing over Greg as he slept was, Henry realized that, after the amount of drinks he had had the night before, added to the fact that because of them he was sure he had some rather unfortunate morning breath, he needed to use the bathroom. Gently, he extracted himself from Greg’s clutches.

Greg grumbled in his sleep, turning over and pulled a pillow down to his waist, snuggling it instead. The dour look on his sleeping face made it seem very much like the pillow was a poor substitute to a Henry when it came to cuddling.

Standing, Henry stretched a little, then made his way across the room. Greg had obviously made quick work of going to sleep when he had come home – clothes were littered from the door of the room to the bed. Stepping over a pair of jeans, Henry stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He went through his morning ritual, forced to use his finger as a toothbrush after washing his hands thoroughly – not a good way to do it, but necessary, as he was hardly about to use another person’s toothbrush. At least, not without asking first.

Debating it for a minute while examining his twelve o’clock shadow, Henry decided a shower would be nice. It was strange, just using Greg’s bathroom like this, since they … well, technically they did sleep together, didn’t they? And why would that be the acceptable gateway into bathroom usage, anyways? Perhaps it was awkward because he simply didn’t get to ask, and he wasn’t about to wake Greg just to do so. Any way you went about it, the feeling was silly, Henry chided himself. Surely Greg wouldn’t begrudge him the use of the facilities, and having assured himself of this, he turned on the shower.

It didn’t take long for the temperature to be acceptable. Henry stripped off and slipped into the stream, enjoying the freshening feel of water against his skin. It was waking him up more, and he just stood there for a little while, letting it beat against the back of his neck, warming him to the core. Finding the razor and shaving cream in the shower rack, he made quick work of his stubble. He was just putting it down and making for the shampoo when he heard the door of the bathroom open.

“Morning, Henry,” Greg called, sounding awake and rather happy. Henry had gone from zoned out to frozen in milliseconds. It took him a few heartbeats to find his voice.

“M-morning, Greg.” He silently thanked any available god for Greg’s frosted shower door as the man bustled about at the sink. It was now even more strange, or vaguely awkward, all this, for some reason. Technically, Greg hadn’t seen him completely naked, and the thought made him nervous. Yet it also seemed odd that it should. Greg turned the sink on briefly, making the water go a little hotter and Henry, shaken from distraction, yelped and jumped out of the way.

“Oops, sorry,” Greg said, a playful note in his voice, before sticking his toothbrush into his mouth. Henry was still watching his vague form on the other side of the glass as Greg went through his own routine. Hesitantly, the tox tech grabbed for the shampoo, pouring some out and working it through his dark hair, his eyes still on the Greg-shaped blob beyond the blurred glass. For some reason, he got the feeling that Greg was watching blob-shaped him too, but all he could really tell was that Greg was looking into the bathroom mirror, which made sense when one was brushing one’s teeth.

The sound of spitting made Henry prepared for the next blast of hot water, and he got out of the way of the spray as Greg rinsed and washed his toothbrush as quickly as he could. “Sorry again,” Greg said sprightly, and Henry’s lips twisted in a rueful smile at that. He bent to rinse his hair out, closing his eyes as he listened to Greg shuffle about and the sound of the spray around him.

The slide of the shower door made him look up, black hair plastered wetly against his forehead, as Greg stepped in to join him in the little stall. Henry’s ears went up in flame, and he could feel much of the rest of him flushing, too, as he took a step back to give Greg room. Greg shook his head, a mischievous grin on his face, one that sent flutters directly to Henry’s stomach.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Henry gulped, half-aware that he had backed into the wall. It didn’t help that Greg was following him. He stepped into the spray, water rushing down his form, pressing palms to the tile on either side of Henry’s head, and Henry found himself trying very hard not to look anywhere south of the other man's shoulders.

“A shower, Henry?”

“Well. I thought … I mean, it’s just. It wakes me up? And you were asleep … so I just thought. I mean … er."

“But what’s the point in taking a shower,” Greg mumbled huskily, pressing himself into Henry, one set of fingers reaching up to curl in soaked black hair as the other pressed into smooth stomach, “When I’m just going to get you all dirty again?”

“ _Oh_ … “ The half-sigh, half-moan fluttered past Henry’s lips before Greg could cap it in with his own, kissing Henry softly, almost more of a touch than a kiss.

“Well,” Greg breathed into the pouted lips of his compatriot, “If we’re here, we might as well get clean.” He turned away, reaching for the washcloth and the liquid soap.

Henry took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it slightly. Greg Sanders twisted his brain into utter knots. Brilliant ones. And what he did to other parts of his body … Henry blushed, realizing he was excited just by having Greg close. As they were both completely naked, it was more than evident. He was a little embarrassed by it, his hands automatically dropping to cover his obviously interested groin as he looked elsewhere, his ears shining red.

Greg turned with the soaped up cloth to find a very awkward looking Henry staring up at the ceiling. He frowned, putting the towel on the soap dish and using both hands to take hold of Henry’s wrists. Henry looked back, alarmed, his hands suddenly twining with Greg’s and no longer able to cover his slowly growing erection. Greg, now catching sight of what Henry was so embarrassed about, grinned broadly and stepped closer.

“Aw, Henry. What’s wrong? Stop hiding yourself.”

“I- I don’t know. it’s just … awkward, this whole … I don't know,” Henry breathed, feeling rather idiotic about the whole thing. Really, he couldn’t explain why it was strange. It just was. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not, I promise. Nothing to apologize for,” Greg whispered back, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. Controlling Henry’s hands, he placed one against each side of the shower wall, holding them there momentarily. “Now, Henry. Keep your hands up. It makes it easier.”

Henry didn’t have to ask for what, because Greg was already reaching for the washcloth he’d abandoned. Then he found himself biting his bottom lip as Greg began to wash him. First, neck and shoulders, then chest and back, slowly in circles and sweeps, every touch gentle, as if Greg wanted to learn every inch of his body by washing him. The cleft of his collarbone, a soft curve of pectoral, the dip of his navel, slowly he worked his way down, Henry watching him nervously. He was becoming more and more aroused as Greg went, the urge to reach out and touch him becoming increasingly difficult to fight. Greg traced the separations between his rear and his legs, and caressed his thighs within a modicum of insanity. He found the back of Henry’s knees particularly fascinating, probably because they were extra-sensitive as no one had ever touched him there _ever_ , as well as Henry’s ankles and each little toe. By the time he had nearly finished, Greg was kneeling on the floor and Henry was positively panting.

That’s when Greg looked up, his face angelic, rivulets running down and hair plastered to his scalp. He slid a hand up the other’s firm stomach, murmuring, “Henry. I’ve waited long enough, I think.”

Before Henry could ask or say anything else, he was rendered wordless by the feeling of Greg’s tongue at the plush tip of his cock. It went twirling around it a few slow, torturous times, catching and teasing the edge of the crown and toying once with the eye and slit before Greg slowly sucked it wholly into his mouth. A strangled cry, almost triumphant, rose from Henry’s throat, and he couldn’t keep one of his hands where it was any longer. It tangled greedily in Greg’s wet, blond-streaked hair, cupping the curve of his head.

Greg hummed softly, a happy note as he sucked, letting his head tilt back to look up into the chocolate eyes that were staring down at him incredulously. He’d been daydreaming about seeing Henry’s face, lips parted and panting and his eyes heavy-lidded and full of need. It had been almost distracting at work, and when he had come home to the technician, curled in his bed and sleeping like the dead, it had taken all his willpower not to wake him up and have his way with him then. Instead he had snuggled in and promised himself he wouldn’t lose a moment when they woke up. Now, as he slid more of Henry into his mouth, that look on his face everything Greg’d hoped it would be, he was sufficiently satisfied he would fulfill that promise.

The hand on the wall was scrabbling, trying to grip, find purchase, anything. It fought vainly as Greg began his torturous oral thrust, slowly sliding Henry’s now-aching length in and out while his tongue worked miracles along the way. Finally Henry gripped the handle of the soap dish, hunching over slightly.

He was trying so hard not to let his hips buck forward, expending his willpower to keep from just grabbing on and thrusting into Greg’s mouth with abandon. It had been far too long since he’d had any encounter of this sort, and never with anyone like Greg Sanders. He could feel his lips moving, knowing he must be panting and babbling embarrasing things, but he could hear nothing through the rush of water and the drumming of blood in his ears.

It was almost like Greg could read his mind, or perhaps he had let his hips twitch and didn’t realize it, because he suddenly had one of Greg’s arms trailing up his hips, hand on his stomach, the weight pinning him against the wall. His other hand, though … Henry felt those long fingers wrap around his base, pulsing slightly the small area of his cock that Greg couldn’t quite get, and oh … it felt _good_.

The long, low shuddering moans that escaped Henry’s lips as he tried to hold on, the babbled words and mutterings of Greg’s name made him shiver and suck faster, tongue occasionally catching the little nub under the head, tracing the edge of the tip, that vein down the underside. His fingers trailed off the base, tugging teasingly at his balls and up behind to stroke at that sensitive patch of skin behind. He was growing greedy, wanting to bring Henry over that edge soon, taste him in his mouth and throat. He knew he was getting close as the fingers in his hair tightened and those moans became pleas for release.

“G-god … Greg! I ... Oh f-“ The words melted into unintelligible sounds that stuck in Henry’s throat, fingers tightening in warning seconds before a final gutteral moan shook loose and he came hard, hips jerking. Greg tried to swallow as much as he could as it shot into the back of his throat, surprising him. He ended up choking slightly, a small dribble running down his chin, only slightly more than he could handle. Still, he waited until Henry pulsed a last, weak time against his tongue before he pulled his head back, coughing a little, giving a strangled chuckle as he looked upward, both hands stroking calmly up Henry’s stomach.

Henry shudders slowed, practically holding himself up with the hand locked on the soap dish handle. His eyes had snapped shut just before he’d lost control, and when he opened them to look down, the sight of his come trailing down Greg’s chin and chest being slowly washed away made him shiver anew. The fingers he’d forgotten, that had held and twined in Greg’s hair as he worked, now untangled themselves so he could run a few shaking fingers through the remnants, washing the mess away.

“Holy fuck,” Henry finally breathed into the steam, and then Greg was standing, pressing his lips to Henry’s, pressing his back into the cool tiles, the tang of Henry on his lips and tongue. His arms clutched around Greg’s waist, he let Greg hold him, his legs still shaky, still feeling the need for assistance in keeping upright. Those words, the tremor under Henry’s skin, made Greg grin wickedly between kisses, both because he had caused them and because Henry Andrews just didn’t seem much like the type to curse. Every uttered foul epithet was, therefore, precious gold.

“Better than anything I’d been daydreaming about,” Murmured Greg against Henry’s cheek, lips sliding down to nibble just below his jaw. He earned more shivers from Henry, whose brain was still trying to shift back into gear from mindblowing orgasm into normal drive.

“You were ... daydreaming about me?” He was finally able to say, his grin slow, bashful and warm.

“Oh, definitely. I was yelled at by both Sara and Catherine because I was moving too slowly. Couldn’t keep my mind off of coming back here to you.”

“I hope you got your work done,” Henry’s voice was slightly concerned, although he tried to pass it off as playful. “Wouldn’t want to get you into trouble. Not over little ol’ me."

“Nah, I’m amazing as ever. Even with the trips to la la land, I still got them their results in record time. They’ll get the bad guy and I,” He added, biting Henry’s earlobe before whispering the last, “Get you.”

That made Henry blush more than ever, ears glowing red in the dim light, his hands tightening on Greg’s upper arms.

“Should, er … Do you want to wash now? I mean, I can grab the washcloth. And help,” He murmured vaguely, partially because he was distracted by the continued attention to his oh, so sensitive ear.

“Nah. I think … we should get back to bed.”

That was an odd statement, considering they’d just taken a shower, Henry thought momentarily, but Greg was already shutting off the water. He stepped away from Henry, pulling him out the shower door onto the bath mat, making him shiver for a different reason entirely. Henry’s hands were then suddenly filled with towel and his hair was being dried, so he joined in, running the cloth down Greg’s chest and stomach, trying to keep his blushes reined in as he patted down legs and back as well. Greg took the towel from him and returned the favor, leaving Henry to rub that crazy brown-blond hair dry with the other.

Soon the towels were hastily hung to dry and Henry found himself being pulled back into the bedroom, back towards the bed, back into Greg’s arms.

“So, now what should I do with you, Henry Andrews?” Greg’s voice was a playful purr as his hands ran down Henry’s back, his skin still a bit damp even after all the toweling. It seemed that Henry wasn’t meant to answer, because any chance to reply was cut off by a playful kiss, tongue pressing in to tease and massage, making Henry forget exactly what the question was.

A few deft maneuvers by Greg and they were then lying on the bed, their bodies still shimmering from the shower, their lips hardly parting except to take the odd gasping breath before plunging back in. Henry had never made out with someone so intensely before. It was as if he couldn’t stand to part lips from Greg. Greg was much the same, half-moaning if he had to take a breath before tangling tongues again with Henry.

They were far too intent on kissing to do much else, hands stroking soft patches of skin idly on back and sides. One of Henry’s hands found its way up to tangle in and tug at Greg’s hair, making the CSI whimper against those delicate, thin lips before deepening the kiss to show gratitude.

After a time, Henry finally pulled his head back, panting, lips stung cherry red and puffy and his mind pure jello from the sustained amount of liplock. Greg was kiss-stung and panting, too, pressing his nose against Henry’s throat as he tried to slow his heart, which was beating at a surprisingly fast rate. Greg had never known anyone to have that effect on him before, and it piqued his curiosity as a scientist. What was it about Henry that turned him on so very much?

That thought had him running his hands down Henry’s chest, nibbling at his Adam’s apple. Henry looked down at that sandy mop, a slow grin on his face as Greg looked up, those deep brown eyes twinkling at him impishly.

“What?”

“I want you, Henry Andrews.” Greg’s low murmur was suffused with lust, a grin of his own echoing the dirty playfulness in his eyes.

“Well, yes. I mean, I- I know."

“I want you _right now_. I want to do all sorts of wonderful, terrible things to you.”

“ _Okay_ … ” Henry’s voice was raspy and thick. Twist his arm or something, did Greg not know yet that he had Henry wrapped around his little finger? God, his saying all this out loud was making it hard for Henry to breathe for some reason, and the lusty, lash-heavy look Greg was giving him was making his heart thud alarmingly fast. There was a dreadful pause as Greg just stared up at him, as if he was contemplating something.

“I want to fuck you. Would that be alright with you?”

Henry wasn’t even certain he’d heard Greg right; perhaps it was the way he'd said it, almost as if he were suggesting which restaurant to have lunch at. The nonchalance made his skin prickle deliciously. When the words finally filtered through, he nodded dumbly.

Greg’s grin widened, a soft chuckle on his lips as he nuzzled his lover’s throat, whispering, “Say it. You have to say it.”

“Y-yes. _Yes, Greg._ I ... ” He half-choked on the first words, his voice sounding a bit strangled. Having to actually say it out loud was making his ears redder, not to mention his skin in general flushing with embarrassment. “I’m fine with that.”

“Fine with what?"

Oh, now it was just torture. But Henry was okay with that, for some reason. Probably because he could feel Greg’s hand beginning to trace circles on his thigh in a terribly distracting sort of way.

“With … with what you want. Whatever you want. I ... want that, too.”

“No, Henry,” He murmured against blush-bright skin, nipping his lover's chin before looking into pleading nut-brown eyes. His words were kind, coaxing, but Greg felt some need to hear those dirty words pass Henry’s lips again. It was something about that strange innocence Henry had that made it so much hotter. “I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you. Please?”

How could he refuse, when Greg asked so nicely? His voice, when he found it, was nearly a choked whisper. “I … I want you to fuck me, Greg. Please?”

“Of course, Henry. I _want_ to fuck you. I want to fuck you so badly, I’ve been dreaming of it since we walked through the door last night.” Greg's hands were running up and down his chest, the touch making Henry’s heart flutter, although the words were having an entirely different effect on him. “Wanted you right up against it, wanted to be on you ... “

“R-really?”

“ _Yesss_ ,” Greg purred, nipping Henry’s ear. Then he rolled away and the sudden abandonment almost made Henry moan, reflexively reaching out to try and pull him back. It served to make Greg chuckle as he knelt, crawling across the bed a bit to get access to the bedside table, pulling out the lube and a condom from inside the drawer there. The sight made Henry both sigh with relief and lick his lips in want.

“Look what I found,” Greg held the supplies up for inspection and a soft moan of approval was the reply, hands coaxing him back to Henry.

Greg parted Henry’s legs with one knee and knelt between, undoing the cap and squeezing lube onto two fingers. He recapped it loosely, tossing it down into the sheets, then bent to brush his slick digits slowly between Henry's cheeks, circling and teasing against his opening. His other hand petted Henry’s thigh, and both caresses coaxed out another moan, hips lifting in approval.

Then he was gently pressing a finger inside, slowly twisting to lube him well, and Henry was writhing under the sensation. It had been a while, and the pain and ache came first. Then Greg began to thrust, and soon he was carefully adding a second digit, eventually scissoring his fingers gently. “God, you’re so ... warm, Henry. Just sucking me in.”

Henry let out a shuddering sound at that, and Greg couldn’t help bending over him as his fingers slid deeper, swallowing the small, desperate cries his lover made.

Finally Greg added a third finger, slowing the thrust and curving his fingers both to stretch and search. When Henry felt fingertips brush around his prostate it made Henry tremble, his hips bucking gently against the feeling, his cock leaking on his stomach. “R-right th- Oh ... C-christ, Greg.”

Smirking, Greg continued. He wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied Henry was prepared … Or maybe he just liked watching Henry writhe against his hand. After all, the sight made his own prick ache and twitch, and he watched Henry’s length bobbing as he fucked him slowly with his fingers. Unable to help himself, Greg ran his tongue along the bottom of Henry’s cock, making him whimper.

“God, p-please,” He moaned, his voice hoarse as he begged, his back arching him up towards the man who was teasing him mercilessly. “I‘m ready, I need ... Unh!”

The desperation in that voice broke the last of Greg’s resolve and he slid his fingers free, letting them trail wetly up Henry’s thigh. After all, this is what he’d been wanting, what he’d been desperate for since the previous evening. Henry was right, it was more than time, and when he straightened up and put his hand out to search for the supplies he’d laid out, Henry sat up shakily, surprising him.

Henry kissed him deeply while reaching between them, slowly sliding the condom onto Greg’s heated length. The sensation, followed by a gentle squeeze at the base to make sure it was on far enough, made Greg moan low into Henry's mouth. Then a lube-slicked hand was wrapping around Greg’s hardness and stroking, fast and then slow, fast and then slow. The surprise of it all, coupled with the touch and thrust made Greg groan Henry’s name into his mouth as he tumbled him backwards again, hips bucking against that too-eager fist. It took the parting of lips, soft begging and finally Greg’s firm hands pressing his thigh and hip into the bed to make Henry release Greg’s well prepared and slicked cock.

“Jesus, Henry, you’ll make me come before I can do anything else,” He panted, chuckling. Henry grinned up at him, hazy with lust, legs dangling wide and open, absolutely wanton, the perfect picture of debauchery.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Henry Andrews must’ve been past the point of caring, because all his shyness seemed to have finally melted away in the need for Greg, his voice a dark velvet rumble in his chest. The realization made Greg’s grin turn smug; this was all his doing, turning Henry from shy into, well, _this_ , and he was quite pleased with himself. He tugged at Henry’s hip until he turned onto his knees and hands, then moved in behind him, bending over him a bit to nip at his shoulder before murmuring, “Nothing, now.”

Then he was guiding his tip against that slick crack, panting as it pressed against that tight entrance. Henry practically mewled and dug his fingers into the sheets as Greg began slowly pushing past that resisting barrier and, centimeters slow, buried himself into Henry’s warm tightness. Henry’s back arched against the pressure, savoring the beautiful, torturous filling sensation as Greg shoved himself further inside.

“ _Ohhhh bloody goddamned fuck ..._ “

Neither one of them was sure who breathed it, the words hot in the air could’ve been one or both of them, really. Henry only knew that it ached and felt fucking amazing all at the same time. Greg couldn’t think about anything but how absolutely beautiful, mind-blowingly tight and warm Henry felt, and how hard it was going to be to try and drag this out.

Greg’s hands pressed hard into Henry’s stomach, fighting the urge to pull him backwards even as his hips pulsed slowly and relentlessly forward. Henry, on the other hand, was trying to remember how to breathe as all his neurons seemed to be firing on overdrive, and every nerve ending was being reduced to capturing the sensation of being invaded by Greg. It seemed like an eon of twitching hips and clutching hands, but finally Greg’s hips met that plush curve. With a slightly trembling kiss to the middle of Henry’s back, Greg straightened, his hands sliding down to hold Henry’s hips as he wriggled a little, experimentally. The side-to-side motion, so deep inside him, made Henry moan low in his throat.

“Ready?” Greg’s voice was breathless, unsteady, and rough. Henry just nodded, rocking forward slightly on his hands. That was enough consent for Greg, and he began to move, a slow, deep thrust that had him rumbling and made Henry’s fingers tighten again in the sheets.

“Ah, ah, ah! Oh, f- ... fuck. H-harder?“ Henry ground out, his head dropping low as Greg acquiesced and began to pick up the pace a little. Already wet, slapping sounds were filling the room, erotic and filthy, joined by little whimpers from Henry every time Greg pressed a bit close to that spot inside. Not quite pinpoint, but rather like stroking the skin near an aching bruise, making it throb.

Greg bent over, licking a droplet of sweat from Henry’s spine and panted over the spot of slick he left behind. His voice was dark when he finally found it, dark and breathless. “You ... you’re so gorgeous like this, Hen. Your hole’s so tight, greedy ... You’re pulling me in, ah Christ!“ He couldn’t help his voice breaking as Henry let out a trembling moan of agreement and dropped to his elbows, causing Greg’s next thrust to press even deeper.

“Agh, Greggg ... M-more!“ Henry pleaded, pressing his face into his folded arms, the tip of the other man’s cock now blunting into that lovely spot inside him. His eyes screwed tight and he could feel himself dripping precome onto the sheets as his new lover began to fuck him in earnest.

Then there were no more words, and little but that pornographic suck and slap, harder, shallower, but deeper and faster, coaxing aching notes from Henry’s muffled mouth and growls from the man above him. Greg drove harder into him, then more slowly, then harder again, his fingers digging in enough to leave marks, surely. It all drove Henry deliciously mad, made him wiggle and squirm and push back, his body far more adept in begging for more than his now untrustworthy voice.

To Greg’s eyes, nothing was more beautiful than Henry in this moment, his hair damp and wild, half-dried curls wet again with sweat, splayed on the pillow, plastered to his neck. His back curling when Greg’s cock hit him just so, his body bending to Greg’s will, his muscles clenching and trembling around Greg’s length so beautifully. Perhaps it was just the chemicals in his brain talking, but Greg didn’t even care. For a first time, this was amazing. Too amazing, perhaps, because he could feel himself fighting off the curling in his stomach already, and he wanted to drag this out if he could.

Henry was panting hotly into the pillow he’d slowly been pressed forward into by Greg’s relentless thrusts. He, too, was dancing around orgasm, but even with the stimulation of his prostate, one of them was going to have to touch his cock. Before he could even get a hand untangled from under his head and out from the sheets and pillows, Greg’s hips stopped, seated deep inside Henry, and the surprise made the tox tech turn his head, a confused, questioning noise escaping his throat.

Then hands were pulling him upward, against Greg’s chest, and somehow Greg managed to sit back on his heels, pulling Henry with him, his weight impaling him further as he sat in Greg’s lap.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Henry moaned softly, his head collapsing back onto Greg’s shoulders as his thighs and knees trembled and shuffled, trying to get used to such a blatantly spread open position. His cock dribbled onto itself, twitching and bobbing with the sudden motion. Henry felt absolutely exposed, even as Greg’s hands ran the length of him, from knees to shoulders and back. Fingers caught on his nippled as they passed, making Henry gasp.

“Wish I could keep you like this,” Greg growled in his ear, his hips jerking slightly under Henry as he fought the urge to thrust up into him again. “Spray you down with oxytocin, bring you close and stop, over and over.” Just the thought of it had Henry’s eyes rolling into his head, his hands reaching back to find purchase on the back of Greg’s thighs, the curve of his ass.

“Always want you hard, dripping. Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” One hand slicked slowly up Henry’s cock and his body twitched, hard, thrusting into that hand and then back, forcing him onto Greg again. The sensations had his brain melting again, and he could hardly find the air to moan raggedly.

“‘s the dopamine,” Panted Henry, jaggedly circling his hips, wanting to get some of his own back. He could hear Greg’s breath catch, hear him fight back a groan and it made his lips curl. “‘s addiction, in liquid form. Makes you ... _need_ it.”

“ _Need you,_ ” Greg rumbled, his mouth dragging up Henry’s neck, open and sloppy as his hips pulsed upwards, forcing Henry into his hand before dropping. It was all slow, teasing, not enough. It was so very good.

“G-greg, please ... Fuck, I ... I need to come ... “

“Gonna make you ... Make you come. Just like this. You ... have to take it. C’mon.”

Greg’s hand was encouraging on Henry’s hip, but even as Henry tried to find purchase enough to lift and sit back, he couldn’t. His knees weren’t steady enough, he was spread too wide, and what distance he could get he couldn’t keep at any rhythm at all, much less a satisfying one.

“Can’t,” He whined softly, defeat in his voice as he stopped trying, letting his weight fall back against Greg’s chest. 

“Okay, okay,” Greg soothed, kissing Henry’s shoulder before gently pushing on his bum. The sloppy slick sound they made as Henry shakily regained his knees and the feeling of Greg popping free had them both groaning softly. Maneuvering them both, Greg was quickly on his back, head at the pillows, coaxing Henry to straddle him.

Henry looked hesitant, but bit his bottom lip and just let Greg guide his hips downwards until he was pressing that blunt tip into his stretched opening, sinking down until he was rocking back and forth against Greg’s groin.

“Fuck ... S’okay?” Greg mumbled, his hands caressing Henry’s sides and trying not to grab immediately for his lover’s ass as he was aching to do. His brain was shouting for movement, stimulation, but the cooling off had done wonders for his resolve, and he was rather proud that he was able to just let Henry get used to the position. Not to mention, it was just a fabulous sight, little streaks of late afternoon light glinting off Henry’s flushed skin, his stomach stretching, arms flexing as he tried placing his hands differently before even moving a little. His face was a beautiful wash of perplexity and need, and Greg couldn’t resist lifting a hand to his cheek, brushing a thumb across pursed lips.

Henry surpassed his expectations there, again, by sucking that digit into his mouth, his eyes closing, as he abruptly began to move again. The groan was practically ripped from Greg’s throat as Henry’s hands pressed into his waist and he lifted his hips, then thrust back down, spearing himself just so. Both hands scrabbled to grasp handfuls of his lover’s rear, cupping those globes and guiding as the thrusting quickly became harder, faster, never anything but deep. Henry could follow instruction well, and he was taking what he needed.

“I don’t ... “ Stuttered Henry, his brown eyes blown wide and open, almost accusing as they stared down at Greg, “D-don’t need your hands there, please, Greg ... Fffu- Need ... need you to ... to ... Agh ... “ He couldn’t choke it out. He was cursing, if only ever so slightly, and he still couldn’t spill the lewd words to tell Greg what he truly needed.

“What ... Christ ... What do you need, Henry?” Panted Greg, a wicked smile just curving his lips. “C’mon, please ... wanna ... wanna hear you say it.”

“Need ... w-want ... Greg, please,” Now those eyes were pleading, before he cried out suddenly, jerking with the painful pleasure of having thrust himself a little too hard onto his prostate. His cock was leaking messily, already leaving a depraved little pool from Greg’s navel and lower, soaking his nest of trimmed pubic hair. All this debauchery, and Henry still couldn’t say it. Luckily, Greg was a mind reader.

Even more slick noises filled the air as Greg’s hand wrapped around Henry’s wet length and began to pump it in time with Henry’s fast, shallow thrusts, his other hand tightening on his arsecheek. Henry’s moan of relief was nearly subsonic, his head rolling back as his eyes closed against the onslaught of sensation. Greg could feel him starting to lose control, his channel clenching and his thrusts becoming stuttering and uneven. It was gorgeous, and he couldn’t help just watching as Henry took himself apart.

His back arched. That was the warning sign, before come shot against Greg’s palm and then his stomach and chest, over and over and over. It painted him, and that tight passage squeezed over and over around him, and it was all he could do to keep himself in check, wanting this moment to be about Henry. Henry, who was so gorgeous, flexing and crying out in abandon above him, his fingers digging half-moons into Greg’s ribs.

Finally, Henry began to calm, taking deep, shuddering breaths and letting out little whimpers. Greg stroked him once or twice more, causing a tremor and just a little extra ejaculate to escape before Henry shook his head. Too sensitive. Gently, Greg released him, rocking his hips gently and making his lover moan brokenly at the reminder that he was still filled, still pinning Greg to the bed.

“Christ, you’re beautiful when you come,” Greg breathed raggedly, running a slightly sticky hand slowly up Henry’s neck to his face as he pulled him over, bending up to meet him, meet his lips, clashing and pressing for a desperate kiss.

When they finally broke apart, panting, Henry held absolutely still for a moment, studying his lover as Greg flopped back into the bed to catch his breath. He’d come twice, now, between the two of them, and Greg hadn’t had a single orgasm. Was it selfish? Was it what Greg wanted? Henry was just slightly worried. Experimentally he rocked his hips, making Greg huff and groan slightly, his own tawny eyes now focused solely on him.

“It’s not fair,” Henry breathed, running a few fingers through the mess he’d left on Greg’s chest, rubbing it up and across one nipple. It was so dirty and it made Greg’s breath catch in his throat as Henry began to rock his hips more, not thrusting, just gently moving Greg inside him ... and _squeezing_ , apparently. That garnered another moan from Greg.

“W-what?” The question was tinged with something akin to desperation as well as confusion.

“You’ve made me come ... twice now. And you haven’t yet. But you want to,” Henry breathed, squeezing internally again, his gaze hot and focused. “And I want you to. You made me do it. Now you, Greg. Take it? T-take what you want.”

“Fuck. Fuck, yes,” Huffed Greg, a thrill running up his spine as Henry raised his fingers to lick his own come from them. With little to no warning, he twisted, making Henry yelp in surprise as he deftly rolled him onto his back, his head practically hanging over the side of the mattress. Greg fumbled for a pillow, stuffing it under Henry as he raised his hips, partially slipping free before ramming himself back inside. This was punctuated by a heated groan from both of them.

Greg was now unleashed. He gripped Henry’s hips hard, thrusting himself deep, babbling through panted moans at how tight, gorgeous, hot his lover was. It hit an aching spot inside Henry, who was utterly spent, but as his head lolled off the bed, he wished he could muster the energy to come again rapidly, if only because Greg’s grunting and moaning were so fucking sensual.

Instead, Henry used the words that had escaped him before, when his brain was melting through his ears. “Fuck me,” He purred, blushing at using the rough words. “God, yes, just ... Greg, do ... do you like that?”

“Uhn, fuck ... H-henry ... “ Moaned Greg in return, unable to be coherent. Henry silently prayed that they would be able to stay in bed for at least another thirty-six hours, because he was uncertain he’d be able to walk anytime soon. He wouldn’t have it any other way, as he lifted his head with effort to watch Greg, gorgeous and panting, striped with soft afternoon glow, falling apart.

“So, so hard. Everyone ... everyone’ll know, know how hard you fucked me, Greg. I ... Christ,” He moaned softly and squeezed down internally. Greg shuddered hard and bucked, his back tensing before he began to come, hard, collapsing onto one hand on the bed, crying Henry’s name brokenly. It was intense, but then, denying himself usually had that effect on him. Or perhaps it was also Henry as the intensifying additive, and Greg was more than well and ready to admit he was.

Henry could feel that hot pulsing inside, and he blushed more, if that were possible, to think how much he wanted that in him, no barrier. Perhaps someday, if he could talk Greg into tests, if this wasn’t a one time thing ... Then he shook his head, trying to keep that thought out, not wanting to face such a thing yet, when both of them were still thrumming with nerves, when Greg was still weakly thrusting into him.

“Greg! Ch-” Henry choked as the CSI practically collapsed on him, giving one last, good thrust into Henry’s prostate and making him twitch. He wriggled a little, getting them a bit further onto the bed so his head wasn’t hanging off anymore. Greg couldn’t help. He was boneless, weightless. He could feel Henry chuckling under him and it made him smile sleepily.

“Laughing ‘t me?” He murmured against Henry’s hot, sticky skin. “Mm, not fair. You did this t’me.”

“Turnabout’s fair play, idiot,” Henry smirked, poking him in the side of the head and grinning. He wiggled again, conscious of how uncomfortable they were both going to get if they didn’t move. He didn’t relish the idea of being cemented together for one thing.

“Not an idiot,” Greg frowned, scrunching up his face and lifting himself slightly to look up at Henry. Then he grinned in echo at the smile on his lover’s face. “Well, maybe a bit. For you.”

“Christ, we’re a mess,” Henry laughed, pressing a hand to Greg’s jaw and stroking his cheekbone, tracing a little streak of dried come.

“Love it. Love that you made us so messy. We should’ve done that with a condom on you,” Greg said ruefully, ever the DNA tech. “I should’ve thought that through.”

“I’m clean,” Breathed the younger man as Greg arched, slipping the rest of the way out with a sigh, and came to rest next to him, uncaring about wet spots. Really, the sheets were just a lost cause anyhow. They’d need a change just as much as the boys needed another shower.

“No, you’re not,” Greg growled playfully, smirking. Henry opened his mouth to protest and Greg shook his head, catching his chin with a hand to draw him in. “I’m joking. And we can trade proof later. And go to the clinic together. Right now, don’t care. Just ... lie with me for a minute.”

Henry nodded, taking a deep breath and relaxing again. Not just because Greg believed him, but the implications were far beyond this being ... _it_. His fingers trailed along Greg’s side as they lay there, sated, well-earned smiles on their lips, stealing lazy kisses.

“I’ve never been so glad to be stranded by people I thought were my friends,” Murmured Henry some time later. The late afternoon light was fading into pale pink-orange streetlights, had moved from the bed to half on the wall, and they were both trying to ignore the itch and tack of their skins for the comfort and laze of lying there.

“Hm. Not friends, really, then. But yes,” Greg nodded, kissing Henry’s throat. “Remind me to send them flowers, or booze, or something. What’s an appropriate gift for that?”

“What, for abandoning me so you could kidnap and ravish me? That’s glassware or an elaborate centerpiece of some kind, isn’t it?”

“I thought it was a cardboard box of me kicking their asses for being rude to you,” Greg grinned, raising himself up on an elbow to look down at Henry, fingers sliding through dark curls.

“Nah. Never give someone something they can’t return,” Henry laughed, reaching up to twine his fingers with Greg’s and squeeze them gently. “You ... You are so different. Than I ever thought you would be. And not, all at the same time.”

“Sweet, shy Henry Andrews,” Greg sighed, leaning in to kiss his lips softly, “You’re more than I ever expected. Brilliantly so. Can I keep you?”

“Only if I can have another shower.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of this fic was originally posted Aug. 26, '06 on LiveJournal. I never posted the second chapter back then, even though it was almost finished and it ended on a rather unfair cliffhanger. However, it's since been finished, so worry not, fair reader! You will not be left hanging! (Not like all those poor people so long ago - sorry guys! X\ ) Enjoy!


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